


Better Together (wip)

by childofthenight2035



Series: tumblr reboots [4]
Category: Day6 (Band), GOT7, ITZY (Band), Stray Kids (Band), TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, F/F, Family Drama, Family Issues, Family Reunions, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26923900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childofthenight2035/pseuds/childofthenight2035
Summary: When the papers came in the mail, Nayeon knew she had lost.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung, Im Nayeon/Yoo Jeongyeon, Kim Wonpil/Park Jisoo | Jihyo
Series: tumblr reboots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964758
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay, this is another one of those tumblr fics i deleted because the original gives me nausea, so i have rewritten it with the jype family! i'll be updating as i rewrite it, so enjoy (i hope? please?)
> 
> tw: if the topics of divorce and family issues bother you, maybe you shouldn't read it? but i promise it's a happy ending

When the papers came in the mail, she knew she had lost.

-

“Yuna!” Jeongyeon shouted down the hall, anxiously checking the time on her watch. It was nearly seven-fifty, which meant they were both going to be late. _In this snow and traffic, too._ “If you don’t get out here right now, I’m going to leave you here!” She knocked on the front door loudly, hoping Yuna would hear that she was serious. “I’ll tell your teacher you drooled and got your face frozen to the sheets. Let your friends have a laugh.”

A loud thudding sounded from her room, followed by the door opening. Yuna’s scowling face made itself seen. “Alright, _alright_ , I’m here, don’t burn the place down.”

Jeongyeon bit her lip to keep her comment from escaping the confines of her brain. _Calm down_ , she told herself. Yuna trudged to the door, pausing to shove her (thankfully, socked) feet into her sneakers. _Did she have her scarf? Okay, she did. Coat, too? Good._ Jeongyeon held the door open for her and rushed to lock it, pulling her daughter along downstairs to the car. Yuna jerked her hand away.

“I’m not a _baby_ , I know how to walk,” she said, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets, face contorting. Jeongyeon’s heart clenched in pity, but she chose not to comment, crunching on the snow behind her.

The ride to school was quiet. As it had been for the past few months. The silence was beginning to become unbearable. But she knew she couldn’t force Yuna to talk. _She’s breaking inside at a decision I made. She needs time._

Once they pulled up in front of the school, Jeongyeon waited for her to leave rashly like she did every day, but today Yuna hesitated.

“Is something wrong, sweetheart?” she asked, concerned. Was Yuna so reluctant to go to school? Was someone bullying her? _Third graders could be rude. Did someone find out and say something to her about—_

“Will Mom pick me up today?”

Jeongyeon tensed. Of course Yuna would be worried about that. It was the last day of school before winter break. She had expressed her wish to be with her Mom during at least a part of it, before her Mom picked up her suitcase and went on tour. Jeongyeon’s chest ached at the hope in her voice. Yuna hadn’t seen her Mom in weeks. She _wanted_ to say yes. The problem was, she didn’t know.

“Yuna…” Jeongyeon didn’t need to start or finish her sentence for the kid to understand. She lowered her gaze to her gloved fingers, clutching at the hem of her shirt peeking out from under her coat. Jeongyeon reached over and zipped it up completely. Despite being a comparatively sunny day, the morning chill was enough to catch a cold—or at least, a headache. She brushed Yuna’s hair back and surprisingly, she didn’t push away. Bringing her lips to her temple, she murmured, “I’m sorry, baby.”

Yuna’s expression was set in clay. She nodded, emotionless, and unbuckled her seat belt.

“Have a good day, Yuna,” Jeongyeon called out after her as she slammed the car door shut with no attempt at a response.

She sighed, hitting her fist against the steering wheel.

Eight years.

Eight years since Yuna had come into her life. Her precious baby. The light of her life. The second best thing that had ever happened to her.

No.

She frowned, starting the car and pulling out of the elementary school’s driveway.

The _best_ thing that had happened to her.

Jeongyeon let out another deep exhale, skilfully guiding her car off of the school’s property and onto the highway traffic, careful not to skid on the icy cement.

She hated seeing her baby look so upset, but she had no other solution to it than to give it time. She had tried everything—talking to Yuna, to her Mom, to a counsellor. Sometimes, she regretted everything; sometimes she wished she could turn back time and undo it all. Just for Yuna’s sake. Jeongyeon understood her point of view. _No matter how much you tell a child it’s not her fault, some insecurity will stay there; that it was her fault somehow, that she caused it._ She could still hear that tiny broken whisper the night her Mom moved out: ‘is it because of me that Mom never comes home?’

What was she supposed to do? How many times could she forgive it? She let it go for years, just for her daughter’s sake. But she wanted a family. And if Yuna’s Mom wasn’t going to cooperate, why should Jeongyeon keep her in the same apartment? How many broken promises should it take for her to make the decision? How many nights would she have to console her weeping child because her mother didn’t show up? How many tears would be shed before she found the courage?

And now she was going on tour, it seemed. For the last two weeks, her secretary had been calling Jeongyeon apologetically, saying that she was out of town, or she was in a meeting, or recording in the studio. A tiny part of Jeongyeon wondered if she was hurt somehow.

She was tired, to make a long story short. She was tired of seeing a heartsick Yuna. Her mother’s presence wouldn’t make things better at once, but it would help immensely. Yuna idolized her Mom. And Jeongyeon never did anything to tarnish that image, always giving her vague answers for everything. But she missed her daughter. She missed the happy-go-lucky kid she used to be. And it was one person’s fault.

“ _Damn_ you, Im Nayeon!” she spat, honking the horn at the unnecessarily slow traffic in front of her. She slammed the centre of the steering with renewed spite and frustration. “Damn you and your stupid tour!”

-

_Ten minutes isn’t too late, is it?_

The Director of the Academy didn’t seem to agree. But he let it slide, this one time. It was the day before the Academy closed for break, after all.

The A-young Academy of Performing Arts or AAPA, as the students liked to call it (literally speaking, it hurt, aapa=hurt, age old pun), was a reputed school of arts on the outskirts of the city, not too far from Yuna’s school, but far enough to give her anxiety. Jeongyeon had been teaching a class on music as a guest lecturer for the past two years, primarily focusing on piano. It hurt her pride severely, to be teaching here, because this very institution is where she met Nayeon for the first time.

Fourteen years ago.

She hadn’t been a student at the Academy, but Nayeon was one. A quite popular student, in fact. Very talented at both playing instruments and in vocal ability. It was clear from the moment she set eyes on her that Nayeon had magic in her.

Jeongyeon was young and foolish.

Could she help but fall in love?

The Academy had hosted a friendly competition among other schools of art, among which was her own college. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Nayeon once she saw her playing the piano like she was born to. And apparently, she felt the same about Jeongyeon’s performance. Nobody thought anything of it at the time, two pianists bonding over a mutual love of keys and sheet music. But that day changed the rest of her life.

The seniors at the Academy still talked about the duets they performed back in the days. Back in the days she still loved her.

Her students were mostly third and fourth years, upperclassmen struggling to finish and perfect their final performances that would decide their future for them. The semester was coming to an end and they were all in their own worlds, only coming out occasionally to freak out over a wrong note or lack of inspiration. She was sure half of them didn’t even notice she was late. More recently, she acted as a supervisor, nothing else. She didn’t need to.

Jeongyeon took her seat at the desk, observing the half-filled room of students close to panic. She smiled gently at them when they made eye contact, remembering all too well how desperate she had been at their age.

She wanted to comfort them, she wanted to tell them that their art was their own work and that no Fine Arts Society could judge it according to their perspective, she wanted to tell them to relax and not strain themselves. But the years had taught her, at this particular stage in panic, these students actually worked better under pressure. Maybe in a couple weeks they would reach that point where they needed reassurance. Winter break was starting the next day. She hoped that they would take at least a few days’ rest.

She hadn’t realized exactly how deep she was lost in her thoughts until one of her students spoke up loudly. “Excuse me, Prof?”

Her head snapped up. “Yes?”

The student in question pointed to the door, where a TA stood, evidently there to tell her something. Jeongyeon stood up hastily, straightening the file on her desk and pretending she wasn’t just daydreaming in class.

“The Director wants to see you, Prof,” the TA whispered to her once she approached. “I’ll watch the class until you’re back.”

 _The Director wants to see me? Didn’t he just see me?_ Nodding in thanks, she set off down the hall, confused. What could have possibly happened within the hour she had been here?

-

“Sir?” She tapped the doorframe. “You wanted to see me?”

“Ah. Jeongyeon. Yes.” He waved her inside his office. She stood behind the chairs that faced his desk, uncertain and apprehensive while he twirled his pen between his fingers. “Now, you know that I don’t like disruptions during class time.” 

_Shit, did I do something? Is it because I was daydreaming? How the heck would he know that?_

She decided to choose her words carefully. “I am aware of that, sir, yes.”

His eyes softened. “I only allowed it because it was Nayeon, and because of what both of you mean to the Academy, understand?”

Okay, what? What did he mean, he only allowed it because of Nayeon? Why was Nayeon mentioned here? “Um…” she trailed off, not sure what she should say in her confusion. “Nayeon?”

He nodded. “Yes. Im Nayeon? Your wife?”

Ah. Speaking of which. Nobody really knew about this, this fight that tore their life apart. She and Nayeon had been living separately for around six months and only the official papers were yet to be signed. Only because Nayeon was lazy. Only because she wouldn’t just take a pen and sign the damn document. Jeongyeon sent the ones she had already signed, but Nayeon kept making excuses that she was too busy to sit down and read it out. The news hadn’t spread, at Nayeon’s request. Jeongyeon supposed she didn’t want the title of divorcee to ruin her reputation. Even Jeongyeon couldn’t deny that the entertainment industry wasn’t very kind to divorcees, women more so than men, not to mention a woman in a same-sex marriage. Jeongyeon had kept her word. She had mentioned nothing to the Academy nor their families. It hurt to lie to her parents about living together, but she did it.

“Right.” She cleared her throat. “My wife. What about her? I don’t—“

“She’s here to see you, Jeongyeon.”

She didn’t think she hid the shock from her face very well. Two weeks there had been no contact whatsoever, and now Nayeon was visiting her at her workplace? What happened?

“Oh.” What else could she say?

“It seemed urgent.” The Director lowered his voice. “I hope nothing’s wrong?” He gestured to the room adjacent to his office. “She’s in the waiting room. Don’t take too long.”

She nodded, swallowing her nerves down as she exited the office. The secretary gave her a sympathetic smile. Had something happened? She twisted the doorknob and let herself in.

And she was there.

Nayeon was there, sitting uncomfortably on a chair, as if she was about to be interviewed or something. She marvelled at the difference in the way she saw her. There was hardly any love anymore. Nayeon looked worn. Tired. Older than Jeongyeon had ever seen her.

But why should she care about that? She must look worse.

Nayeon stood as she entered, a hopeful smile etching itself across her features. Jeongyeon’s didn’t change in the slightest. She closed the door carefully behind her. Knowing the two of them, this meeting would be anything but peaceful and the secretary certainly didn’t need to hear.

“Jeongyeon.”

She remained stoic. She didn’t want her name to leave those lips that way. Nayeon’s hope crumbled at her unresponsiveness.

“I’m sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow. This was something. Im Nayeon, _sorry_ for something? She crossed her arms, waiting for elaboration. Nayeon sighed, eyes cast down.

“I’m sorry for being AWOL for the past two weeks. I was honestly swamped—" she glanced up, “—and I really couldn’t…how is Yuna?”

Jeongyeon wondered how much hatred was pouring out of her eyes. She had to deal with this rationally. “We made an agreement, Nayeon. I can understand that you were busy, or out of town. But the least you could have done is called. Let her know why you wouldn’t be there. At least let her hear your voice.”

Nayeon seemed to shrink under her gaze. “I know. I should have. I’m really sorry.”

She shook her head. “Sorry is not going to be enough this time, Nayeon.” She glanced at her watch. She should really be getting back to class. “I have to go—"

“Please, Jeongyeon. Don’t take my daughter away from me.”

As much as her heart ached at the sentiment, she was stunned. _How dare she think that?_ “ _I’m_ not the one doing that. And if you came here to apologize, this is not the time or place. And _I’m_ not the one you should apologize to.”

“Then can we meet after your classes are done?” she asked immediately.

“You tried to apologize; I won’t accept it. There’s nothing else to discuss.”

“It’s not just the apology, I—" She broke off, looking agitated. “It’s my dad.”

The worst came to mind first and Jeongyeon swatted it away. “What happened to your dad?”

Someone tapped on the door. She jumped, swivelling around to face the secretary who put his head around the door. 

“The Director says you should be getting back to class,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes. Of course.” She waited until he had left, and turned back to her ex. “It’s half day today.” Without waiting for a reply, she slid out of the room.

“Not bad news, I hope?”

She forced a smile, to reassure the poor secretary.

“My father-in-law…but he’ll be okay.”

-

Nayeon was waiting outside the building during the noon rush, both students and teachers fleeing from the Academy in glee, eager to get home and rest. Jeongyeon watched from a distance as she greeted the professors who recognized her. As much as she didn’t want to interfere in their stupid catch-up conversations, she wanted this over with.

“Jeongyeon!” Nayeon caught sight of her and waved, brushing off her acquaintances to approach her.

“Talk.” Jeongyeon pursed her lips, impatient. “What is it?”

Her face fell. “I thought we could discuss it over lunch—"

“Nayeon, please don’t make me spend a minute more with you than I absolutely have to,” she retorted, moving aside for some students to pass.

She sighed. “Okay.”

The two of them wandered over to the benches built under the shade of the oak trees on the hill next to the building. This was a place that students all frequented, either to study, or for the exact opposite. Jeongyeon bent down to pick up a fallen leaf as she sat.

When they were comfortable, she repeated, “What happened?”

Nayeon looked stressed. And anxious. Almost close to tears? “Jaebeom called this morning. Dad…he had a stroke yesterday.”

Jeongyeon inhaled sharply. “And?”

“He’s in the hospital now. He’s out of danger, but…” She broke off, fiddling with his jacket. “Oppa says we should go see him. _All_ of us.”

The silence absorbed those words. Jeongyeon realized what she was asking.

“Oh.”

She was torn. On one hand, she couldn’t be happier if she never had to see Nayeon or her family again. But on the other…her father was in the hospital. A victim of a stroke. This was dangerous territory. Jeongyeon had to tread carefully. What would he say if he found out they were separated now? Wouldn’t it break his heart? She didn’t want to imagine the consequences of that knowledge spreading around her hometown. Jeongyeon hardly realized she was absentmindedly shredding the leaf between her fingers.

Nayeon knew she had understood. “Jeongyeon, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. I mean…it’s my dad. I…I have to see him, and—I can’t really go back without you both. It’s break after all.”

She did understand. Out of all Nayeon’s family, Jeongyeon had grown to respect her father for everything he had done to make sure his children grew up well. She blamed the city’s influence for Nayeon’s condition. She couldn’t let the man have a heart attack because of some papers she signed. What choice did she have but to say yes?

“I’ll do it. I’ll come with you. But only because I respect your father,” she informed. A wide radiant smile broke out on Nayeon’s face, a smile of pure relief. Jeongyeon, on the other hand, couldn’t smile. Pretending to be a happily married couple with no issues in front of her entire hometown? “How long are we talking about?”

She shrugged. “Oppa called us all down for winter break.”

For the entire winter break? A whole twenty days? Jeongyeon groaned, burying her face in her hands. This was not going to end well. This was _definitely_ not going to end well.

-

“This isn’t forever, Jeongyeon, it’s just a couple weeks or so,” Nayeon said from the passenger seat of the car.

“It’s twenty fucking days.” Jeongyeon didn’t know why she even let her in her car. Nayeon could go back to her place the way she came, but Jeongyeon took pity on her. Just this once. Her father was ill, after all.

She was too nice for her own good.

The ride to the studio was uneventful. Nayeon must have sensed her discomfort, and so spoke very little. Jeongyeon couldn’t fathom how she was so… _okay_ with this. From what she could see, Nayeon seemed perfectly fine with being so close to her. _She_ was the one breaking a sweat.

 _Well, that’s how it’s always been_ , she thought to herself. _I’m always the one who worries._

“Yuna wanted to know if you were going to pick her up today,” she said abruptly.

“Ah.” Nayeon ran her fingers through her hair. “Okay. I will. I’ll bring her to your place? We could talk about this to her.”

Jeongyeon tapped the steering wheel nervously, considering her answer. _Oh, pull yourself together, Jeongyeon. You have to spend the next couple of weeks with her, so might as well get used to it._ “Yeah. Okay.”

Nayeon nodded, still hesitating to get out of the car, as if she wanted to say something else. “I…I really am sorry. For not calling to tell you I wouldn’t make it for a couple weeks. You…” she paused. “You’re not going to take her away from me, right? Just give me—"

“What have you ever done to prove yourself, Nayeon?” she asked, tired of this unforeseen tension. “You—”

“Three months I was punctual!” she exclaimed. “I picked her up on time! You know that.”

“Yes, of course.” Jeongyeon’s tone was bitter and sarcastic. “It must be so difficult to leave work early for one day a week and cook ramen for two instead of one over the weekend.”

She fell silent, the tips of her ears turning red.

“I’m doing this only so your father doesn’t kick the bucket too soon,” Jeongyeon spat, almost relishing the horror in her eyes at those words. “But while I get this chance to talk to you, I might as well say this— _I_ can understand your busy work schedule. But Yuna won’t. She’s only a child. I’m tired of it, Nayeon.” She tucked a strand of hair away from her face. “I’ve cut down your responsibility to the bare minimum. And you can’t even do that.”

She was speechless.

“I…I see,” she managed to say after a while. “I’m…sorry.”

For the second time that day, Jeongyeon said, “I’m not the one you should apologize to.”

“I know.”

With that, she opened the car door and stepped out onto the pavement.

-

A year ago, Jeongyeon would have jumped at the chance. A chance to spend time with Nayeon, to visit her boisterous family over spring break, to get herself out of the confines of work and enjoy, possibly fall in love all over again. At Christmastime, no less. Now…she wished nothing more than the opposite.

Funny how much of a difference twelve months could make.

She drummed her fingertips on the dining table, her laptop open two feet away from her. Her eyes were on the screen, supposed to be reviewing an essay that one of her students submitted, but her mind was elsewhere, impatient at the time on the clock. It was nearing four-thirty, _where were they?_

The laptop was abandoned. She couldn’t focus.

What was she supposed to do?

Yuna would be fine. All Nayeon had to do was bribe her and she would be more than happy to glue her mouth shut about the fact that her parents no longer lived under one roof. She would probably be _wanting_ this. That her parents would be together for at least a little while.

Jeongyeon wasn’t sure how well she could act. She had carried around far too much resentment inside her that just Nayeon’s presence would probably cause her to slip awkwardly away. Could she really pull this off?

The door burst open and in flew Yuna, happier than she had seen her in well over a couple months.

“Is Mom serious?” She asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet as Nayeon entered slowly and closed the door behind her. “Are we really going back to town for winter break? All of us?”

Reluctantly, Jeongyeon nodded. “Yep. We are.”

“Yes!” she cheered, pumping her fists in the air. Just before she could run off, Nayeon caught the collar of her coat and helped her out of it. Yuna kicked off her shoes, too. “I can bring my water guns, right? I know it’s gonna snow and everyone’s gonna make snowballs, but I can shoot cold water! I can get back at Seungminnie and Lia and everyone….” Her voice faded away as she disappeared into her room, most certainly to search for her toys.

“You didn’t tell her why we’re going?” Jeongyeon asked while Nayeon placed her daughter’s sneakers neatly beside the door.

“Not yet,” she replied, straightening up and pulling off her own jacket. “I thought you might be able to handle that better.”

Jeongyeon was quiet as Nayeon took a seat across from her. Glancing discreetly at her, she tried to figure out what she was feeling. A semester in psychology fifteen years ago hardly helped. Jeongyeon wondered if she was okay. However much she disliked the woman, she still pitied her.

“Mom! Look!” Yuna burst into the room, completely oblivious to the awkward silence and the tension. She held up a Nerf gun. “Our neighbour lady gave this to me when she was cleaning out her son’s stuff, because he went to college. Isn’t it cool? I’ve never had a Nerf gun before!”

Before Nayeon could give her more than a thumbs-up, Jeongyeon spoke. “Yuna, could you sit down for a second? We’d like to talk to you.”

Her face fell at the solemnity in her tone. She glanced between the two of them, finally realizing that something was wrong. “What is it, Mama?” She climbed into a chair next to her Mom warily. “Did I do something?”

Jeongyeon sighed. How does one tell their child things like this? Nobody had been this seriously ill since her aunt passed away several years ago, but at the time, Yuna was too young to understand anything at all—there was no need to explain. “There’s a reason we’re going to town, Yuna. Your grandpa’s…sick.”

She blinked a few times. “Grandpa’s sick? What happened?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” she reassured hastily. “Grandpa’s getting old, he can’t do everything like he used to, right? So his body’s getting tired. That’s all. And anyway, it’s winter break, so all of us are coming to see him.”

Jeongyeon watched anxiously as Yuna digested her words. She nodded slowly. “Okay. So I guess he can’t come with us to the skating place, huh?”

Nayeon smiled gently and patted her head. “I’m afraid not, kiddo. Grandpa needs professional care, so he’s in the hospital for now until he gets better. I’ll take you.”

Yuna was pouting slightly, gnawing the inside of her cheek. She didn’t respond.

“Yuna?” Jeongyeon asked. “There’s one more thing. You know that we haven’t told anyone back home that we—" she gestured to Nayeon and herself, “—don’t live together, right? You know that.” No answer. She pressed on. “Yuna?”

“Yeah, I know.” Jeongyeon hated hearing the defeat in her voice.

“Grandpa would feel really hurt and upset if he finds out, won’t he?”

“I guess so.”

“And he’s sick. So Yuna, I want you to promise me—" she extended her arm, palm facing upward, “—you won’t tell anyone about it. We’re going as a family. A happy family.” She made no motion, staring at the wood of the table. “Will you promise me?” Jeongyeon glanced at her “wife”. “Will you promise us?”

Yuna’s smaller hand fit in hers. Nayeon let out a sigh of relief and engulfed the girl in her arms. “We’ll have fun, Yuna. We can go to the skating rink and you can bring your Nerf gun and you can spend all week playing with the kids, yeah?” Yuna scrunched up her nose and wriggled in her grip. Her Mom let go. “Why don’t you go find the rest of your toys? Gotta start packing if we’re gonna leave tomorrow, right?”

She nodded brightly, dashing off to her room again.

Jeongyeon chuckled fondly at her excitement, sinking back in her chair.

“I’ve called Youngjae,” Nayeon informed her, referring to her younger cousin. “He’s coming with us. And…I heard Chan’s flying in for Christmas. Younghyun, too.”

“Great,” she muttered. “Everyone’s coming home. Wonderful.”

Hardly a couple years out of college, Youngjae was a trainee (rookie? whatever) at a record label on the other side of the city. Only twenty-seven kilometres separated them from him, but the awful traffic was enough to prevent much travel—it had been quite a while since Jeongyeon had seen him. His sister Jihyo lived next door to Nayeon’s dad and brother. Jihyo was married to Nayeon’s oldest friend, Wonpil. And apparently now Chan and Younghyun were returning as well. She groaned internally at the thought of the whole clan ruining her peace of mind all at once.

“Youngjae doesn’t know either, does he?” she confirmed.

“No. He doesn’t. We’re passing through his place on the way, so he’ll be catching a ride with us. Said he might be having his flatmates along, I’m not sure. I’ll drive the van?”

Jeongyeon nodded absently, an idea suddenly slashing its way into her mind. An idea to bring Nayeon to her knees and end the control she had over her life, once and for all. She hated being subject to her whims. She wanted this over.

Should she say it? Would it be cruel?

No. A better question would be, would it be crueller than the mental exhaustion Nayeon had put her through in the past couple of years?

“You know what, actually?” she said lightly, “I changed my mind.”

Nayeon’s jaw went slack at the statement. “What? Changed your mind about what?”

“About this.” Jeongyeon gestured vaguely around. “Going to town as a family.”

She tensed, at a loss for words. “Jeongyeon, what—" she broke off, looking devastated. “But…but you said you would do it. For my father. Did I say something? Is it because Youngjae–”

“On one condition.” She knew Nayeon was desperate enough to comply with whatever she had to say.

“Anything.” She swallowed, clearly panicking. “Please, just…for my dad.”

Jeongyeon fixed her with her death glare, perfected over the last eleven years.

“I want you to sign the papers.”

-

Was she a bad person for relishing the look of surprise and bitter disappointment that crossed Nayeon’s face when she registered her demand? Or was she just happy that Nayeon felt at least some of the anguish she suffered?

There was a long silence neither of them seemed willing to break. Jeongyeon knew she would have no choice. If she was so desperate to not let her family know anything, she would have to accept. True, it would make their divorce official, but at least then, her family would be her sole problem, whether she chose to tell them or not. It wouldn’t be much of a difference in Jeongyeon’s own daily life. They were already living apart and dividing the kid’s time. Nayeon certainly wouldn’t fight for sole custody. After all, she was supposed to be going on tour soon after break. Jeongyeon wondered whether she would come back.

“Okay.”

If she hadn’t seen Nayeon’s lips move, she wouldn’t have thought she caved.

Nayeon sat, hunched, staring at her interlocked fingers resting on the table, jaw tight.

“Alright then.” Jeongyeon slid her chair back, about to get up. “That’s settled. I want them tomorrow morning before we leave.” _In case she has any thoughts about giving it to me after the break’s up and bailing_ , she said to herself. She stood. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Her head shot up, confused by the sudden change in demeanour. Why should she be? Jeongyeon did give Nayeon her word. For the next twenty days, she would be her loving, caring spouse.

Jeongyeon wanted to throw up.

“Should I?” Nayeon asked quietly. 

“If you want to.” She smiled gently. 

“You’re quite an actor.” Her mouth thinned, finally catching on. Jeongyeon knew only too well what that gleam in her eyes meant. _I see what you’re doing_. “Do you want me to help?”

“I’d rather you help Yuna pack her stuff,” she replied, clearing her laptop and papers from the table. “You know she’ll get carried away otherwise.”

“I’m on it.”

Jeongyeon groaned inwardly once she disappeared down the hall.

What had she gotten herself into?


	2. Chapter 2

Jeongyeon wasn’t sure why she woke up at first. She was cold, that was for certain. Blindly feeling around for the blankets didn’t help much. Where was the blanket? Why did she wear such thin clothes to bed? 

“Mama!”

Sure, the students Jeongyeon worked with loved to complain about stress and school. But have they ever been so rudely awoken by a hyper eight-year-old at the crack of dawn because she was too excited to sleep?

Sometimes, she regretted having a child. _Sometimes_. 

And then she saw Yuna’s shining face and then she brought herself in check. This was sleep-deprived five o’clock Jeongyeon talking. Of _course_ she loved the kid. 

“Yuna, what are you—" she groggily lifted herself out of her pillows to squint at her daughter in the darkness. The sun wasn’t even up yet. She broke off when she saw what the kid was holding. Jeongyeon pointed a finger at her threateningly. “Yuna, I swear on everything I believe in, if you shoot that at me—"

But she shot. Jeongyeon shrieked as water splashed across her face, her bedsheets and, in her dazed state, everything else. “Yuna!” With a loud guffaw, she dashed away. Jeongyeon stared at herself, nose wrinkling at the feeling of damp cloth sticking to her skin.

She loved the kid. She really did.

_Most_ of the time.

-

So much happened in the next twenty-four hours. So much.

_Too much._

Perhaps it was just something people in normal healthy relationships called a regular day. Maybe Jeongyeon was just so busy stressing that she felt like a thousand things had happened.

She’d just made Yuna calm down when her Mom showed up, discreetly slipping an envelope into Jeongyeon’s hands, which she promptly checked and locked in her desk. _That wasn’t so hard, now was it, Nayeon?_ Why did she procrastinate for two whole months? In all other aspects except legal, they were pretty much divorced already. What difference would it make?

Yuna didn’t notice. Good.

Her Mom let her ride shotgun, although Jeongyeon made her promise to wear her seat belt at all times. She didn’t trust these bigger cars (or Nayeon driving said car, for that matter). Yuna talked non-stop, for which Jeongyeon was glad. She wouldn’t have been able to stand the silence.

By the time they got through the heavy traffic (was _everybody_ leaving the city today?) and reached Youngjae’s place, it was past noon, so the three of them were invited inside his tiny apartment to have a bite of lunch before they all left. And that’s when Youngjae introduced them to two new faces—Yugyeom, his friend (although Jeongyeon suspected he was more than just that), who was a choreographer for the idol groups under the record label Youngjae apprenticed at; and Bambam, the third musketeer, currently studying fashion design. They were startlingly attractive—for a moment, Jeongyeon wondered why they weren’t idols or models themselves. Their sense of humour didn’t quite appeal to her at once. Yuna didn’t seem to know what to make of these new additions to their road trip, but in the way children forget, she moved on, even getting along with them quite well when she found that their combined mental ages matched hers.

The rest of the journey was relatively smooth.  
Until they got to the hospital.

Jeongyeon never felt so ashamed of lying. Not before she did it to the weak but bright, hopeful face of her father-in-law.

“Grandpa!” Yuna bounced to his bedside. “Does it hurt?” The old man laughed heartily and clapped the child on the shoulder.

“Not at all, I’m glad.” He patted Yuna’s hair. “Don’t worry your little head about it.”

“Hey, Appa, how are you feeling?” Nayeon asked, approaching the hospital bed cautiously, while Jeongyeon greeted Jaebeom and his husband Jinyoung.

“I’m fine!” her father barked in response, waving Nayeon’s concern away. “Don’t look at me like I’m on my deathbed.” He shook the tubes stuck into his arm. “Tell them to get these things off of me and I’ll come home.”

They all chuckled at his enthusiasm to leave the hospital.

“Ayy, uncle, why are you like this?” Youngjae teased. “You’re an old man now, you have to stay here and let the nurses spoon feed you, huh?”

The old man mimed hitting him. Jeongyeon were sure he _would_ have if Youngjae wasn’t standing safely out of arm’s reach.

“Oh, who’s this?” Her father-in-law just caught sight of Yugyeom and Bambam hiding in the shadows, not wanting to interfere in the family reunion.

“This are my flatmates,” Youngjae introduced, pointing. “That’s Yugyeom and Bambam. They didn’t have any place to go for break, so I thought it would be fun to bring them along.”

The old man waved them over. “What do you two do? Unemployed like this boy?”

“Uncle!”

The two gangly young men laughed, smiling sheepishly at Youngjae’s betrayed expression. “I’m a choreographer and Bam’s learning fashion designing,” Yugyeom supplied.

“Oh?” The old man looked mildly impressed and amused. After a little more enthusiastic small talk with the patient, Jaebeom piped up from where he stood near the door. “Appa, we should let them go home; they must be tired from their journey. They can come visit tomorrow.”

And that broke up the party in the hospital room (good thing too, because the nurses were getting nervous seeing a crowd of people).

The ride to Nayeon’s house was hazy. The sky had begun to darken a little; Jeongyeon was tired; Yuna was overflowing with energy, eager to see her cousins and the neighbours; Youngjae and his flatmates were no quieter and now she had a headache.

Jeongyeon hardly knew what exactly happened when the kids opened the door.

What she did know was that Wonpil and Jihyo’s youngest, Lia, opened the door and started shrieking at the top of her lungs when she saw Yuna, who promptly dropped her bags on Jeongyeon’s foot and dashed into the house to chase her cousin. 

“Wow,” she heard Bambam mutter, seeing the chaos. It was perfect for them.

What she _did_ know was that the twins (making the most of the fact that their dads were still at the hospital) greeted you all—Yeji went right back to watching…whatever she was watching on the television, while Hyunjin got his head knuckled by Youngjae. The lack of a parental type age difference between the two resulted in a buddy-buddy relationship instead of an uncle-nephew type.

“Hey, Seungminnie,” Youngjae said, tickling his sister’s kid, rudely interrupting his video game. He snatched the phone out of his hands. “Whose phone is this, anyway?” He held it up high in the air, pushing the twelve-year-old’s face away when he attempted to grab it back. “Did anyone lose a phone?” 

A bump to Jeongyeon’s arm and Nayeon brushed past, carrying both her luggage and Jeongyeon’s. Shifting her backpack over her shoulder, she picked up Yuna’s things as well, to take them upstairs to her room. 

Jeongyeon quietly slipped off her shoes, listening to Yugyeom and Bambam offer to carry the bags upstairs with her. Despite the situation, she smiled at their politeness. She sat down rather heavily on the sofa beside Yeji. She hadn’t thought she would be back here again, in the middle of the hurricane that was this entire family. _Her_ relatives weren’t this explosive, were they? 

“Tired?” Yeji asked her, scooting a tad closer. The twins were several years elder than the rest of their generation, already in their junior year of high school, while the next eldest was only halfway through middle school. Hell, Yuna was the youngest, right? And she was only eight. Jeongyeon didn’t blame the twins at all for being aloof most of the time—teenagers were rebellious and generally disliked doing anything they didn’t want to; Jeongyeon was _not_ looking forward to Yuna reaching that age—but all in all, they were great kids: even though they both ended up getting Jinyoung’s pettiness. 

Jeongyeon patted Yeji’s shoulder. “Yeah, a little. Don’t worry about it.”

She nodded, turning back to the television, where a drama Jeongyeon didn’t recognize was being aired. Hyunjin was seated on the floor, far more engrossed in it than his sister. 

With loud thumping, Youngjae’s friends came trudging back downstairs, Nayeon close behind. Yuna and Lia were nowhere to be seen. They must be gossiping or showing each other their toys. She watched absently as Youngjae gestured to his flatmates and they left the house into the evening air, going next door to his sister’s place. Jeongyeon guessed that the three of them would crash there. Good. This house was going to be full as it is— Jeongyeon, Nayeon, Yuna, the twins and Jinyoung. Jaebeom would probably stay at the hospital, right? What were Seungmin and Lia doing here anyway? Hanging out? Oh, no, were these kids going to have some sort of sleepover? The sound of a car pulling in distracted her. 

Jinyoung walked in, bundled up and nose red, looking stressed already. 

“Isn’t that over yet?” he questioned, glancing at the television in distaste. He stepped out of his shoes and pulled off his coat, grateful for the warmth. He flashed Jeongyeon a smile and an eye-roll. 

“Appa, just because you didn’t get the part doesn’t mean they’re corrupt,” Yeji retorted (Hyunjin still blissfully oblivious to his surroundings), much to Jeongyeon’s amusement.

“Shut it, you.” Jinyoung snapped his fingers at Seungmin, busy playing his game. “Why are _you_ here? Where’s Lia?” 

The boy shrugged, eyes glued to the screen. “I don’t know. Somewhere.”

Jinyoung cursed under his breath, turning away in defeat. “I don’t know why _I’m_ always left to deal with all this. Seung, get your sister and go home, your mom’s probably waiting for you.”

“I doubt it.”

“Can you at least _pretend_ to have some basic human sympathy?” With a dramatic sigh, Seungmin turned off his game and dragged himself upstairs, calling out for his sister. Jinyoung followed him with his eyes, pursing his lips. “Who does he even get this from? I need to have a word with Wonpil—”

“Oppa, let it go,” Nayeon said, chuckling. “Aren’t you hungry?”

-

Jeongyeon wanted to tear her hair out.

After all she’s been through, now this?

She stood in the doorway to Nayeon’s old bedroom, now Yeji’s, watching, distressed, as she tried to make Yuna behave long enough to brush her teeth.

She’d forgotten there was one bed the three of them would have to share.

_It’s not that big of a deal, Jeongyeon_ , she told herself. _You’ve done it so many times before. Just make Yuna sleep in the middle and you’ll be fine._

The thing was, she had almost gotten used to sleeping in a bed alone. Almost. It had been six months since Nayeon moved out, but what was six months compared to ten years? Even if they were fighting, both of them kept one rule—no one sleeps on the sofa: it’s either in the same bed, or not in the house. Jeongyeon always had her warmth to fall asleep to, until six months ago. But now it was too awkward.

“Yuna, can’t you lie quietly?” Jeongyeon snapped, tired of her daughter’s fidgeting.

“Why can’t I go and sleep in Hyunjin oppa’s room with them?” she whined, upset that they were being a hindrance to her entertainment. “Lia asked her mom if she could sleepover and you’re not letting me?” Jeongyeon knew very well that none of the children would sleep once Yuna went down there.

“Because then you won’t sleep,” Nayeon interjected. “And then you can’t have any fun tomorrow. Felix is coming, isn’t he? You want to show him your squishy sleep face?” Jeongyeon snorted softly at Nayeon’s tactic—Yuna had been far too smitten with Chan’s kid brother ever since she met him.

She squealed at the mention of Felix. “He’s really coming tomorrow? What about Jisung?”

“Yeah, he’s definitely coming back. Jisung will soon. Now please go to sleep.”

Silence.

_Finally_ , Jeongyeon thought. _My head was literally going to explode._

Their heavy breathing slowly replaced the pounding of her heart. It was sort of comforting, she had to admit. She supposed it was because this wasn’t an everyday occurrence. Jeongyeon couldn’t remember the last time Yuna had snuck into their room and crawled underneath the covers beside them. It had to be at least two years. She seemed to keep to herself a lot more since the break-up….

-

Crashing sounds. Screams.

Jeongyeon stubbornly kept her eyes shut although the noise had jerked her awake. _Is this a dream? Please let this be a dream._ She didn’t want to wake up just yet. It had barely been a few minutes since she fell asleep…right? She could sense that the room was illuminated and groaned, burrowing herself deeper into the warmth. _Why_ was it so cold? 

“Guys, wake up! You’re so old and lazy! You’re gonna miss breakfast!” Yuna’s loud screeching voice burst into the bedroom. “Mama! Mom, you said Felix is coming today!” Jeongyeon could feel her little hands grab at her and shake, trying to rouse her. Yuna clambered onto the bed, her elbows and knees poking in uncomfortable places. “Can I go to the airport with Uncle Wonpil?” And then, quite suddenly, the knobbly bones were gone. A thud. Had she fallen off? For a brief moment, Jeongyeon considered opening her eyes to see if she was okay, but her loud shouts filled the air a second later as she ran out of the room.

Jeongyeon was so tired.

“Control your daughter,” a hoarse voice murmured in her ear.

“Before noon, she’s your daughter,” she mumbled in reply almost automatically. A pause, in which her brain buffered, letting those words sink in. Then it clicked.

She wasn’t burrowing into the bedsheets or the blankets. She was engulfed in something much more solid. There was an arm around her that certainly wasn’t Yuna’s.

Jeongyeon’s eyes snapped open.

“What the hell,” she yelped, kicking everything away in her haste to get off the bed and nearly fell.

She had been pressed up against Nayeon, barely any space between their bodies, faces mere inches from each other. Of _course_ Yuna had to get up before both of them. Had she even slept here at all during the night?

Awoken fully by Jeongyeon’s yell and her thrashing, Nayeon opened her eyes and stared around, blinking in confusion.

“Jeongyeon?” she asked, yawning. “What happened?” She propped herself up on an elbow.

_I don’t need this to be any more awkward than it already is,_ Jeongyeon thought, clearing her throat. “Everybody’s up. It’s almost breakfast time. The kids must be hungry.”

She groaned, rubbing her eyes in exhaustion. “It’s too cold for this shit.” 

_Isn’t that a mood._ Jeongyeon turned away from the sight of Nayeon’s mussed up hair and puffy face in favour of locking herself in the bathroom. 

“Oh, this is already a mess,” she whispered to her messy reflection. “Are you sure you can do this for twenty days?” 

-

When she entered the dining room, she found five kids seated around the table with piles of pancakes on plates and sticky, _sticky_ fingers covered in syrup—and Jinyoung, poor Jinyoung, still in the kitchen wearing his slippers and sweats, flipping pancake after pancake with practiced ease. Guilt surged within her. 

“Oh, I could have helped!” she said, sheepish, immediately reaching for the spatula. He held it out of reach, pushing her shoulder lightly. 

“Relax, it’s not often I get to cook for so many people.” He slid the spatula under the pancake. “It’s Christmastime and you are _guests_.” He pointed somewhere beside him with it. “Get a plate. Nayeon’s not up yet?” Jeongyeon ducked to pull a drawer of plates open and carefully removed one. 

“On her way,” she answered, happily holding out the plate for her share of breakfast. “Did _you_ eat?”

He scoffed. “Of course I did, you still think I’m going to starve for _them_?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Yeji glaring in their direction. “I love them but they’re not worth staying hungry for. No way.”

Jeongyeon giggled, making a quick trip to the table to grab the syrup and returning to lean against the counter, plate in hand. “Park Jinyoung doesn’t starve for _anyone_ , does he?”

He shook his head, a fond smile on his face. “So—how’s work going for you?”

“Not too bad.” She tore off a piece of pancake. “Semester’s about to end, so the kids are mostly preoccupied with their projects. Not much for me to do right now.” 

“Lucky. I have an audition on Christmas Eve, can you believe it?” He turned a little to pout at her. “Do these people not have a life outside their job?” Jinyoung deposited another pancake on her plate just as Nayeon walked in, carrying three empty plates, probably from the children. “Morning. Fancy a pancake?”

“I’d much—” her sentence was cut off by a yell of no, it’s my turn! and she closed her eyes, grounding herself. “I’d much rather have something stronger.” 

“Don’t we all,” Jeongyeon muttered. 

In the time the twins also passed through with their own dishes (“ _wash_ them, you lazy bums,” Jinyoung chided), Nayeon had her own plate and stood there with her, munching away; Jeongyeon had finished her set and cleaned up. 

“Wonpil’s picking Chan and Felix from the airport?” Nayeon asked through a mouthful. 

“Yep. So we have to pick Younghyun up when he gets here in a couple days.” He waved the spatula carelessly. “I’ll just send Jaebeom. Ah,” he added, “speaking of Jaebeom, I’ll probably be staying at the hospital tonight. Just so you know.” He lowered his voice. “Try to get all these kids to stay here again. If I cooked breakfast for all of them, Jaebeom has to.”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

“Mama!” Jeongyeon braced herself for the rocket soon to come zooming into her legs. “Uncle Wonpil’s going to the airport now! Can I go? Please, please, please—”

“You’re going to see them when they get back here, anyway,” Nayeon told her. “And maybe Felix will be super tired. He won’t be any fun. Let’s let them relax, get some sleep and then we can go later.” Yuna’s lower lip pushed out, sad face on. Jeongyeon reached out to pat her. And just like that, she recovered and dashed back out. _Why are kids like this?_

“Do you two have any idea what we’re going to do with the kids today?” Jinyoung asked, turning off the stove and lifting the pan into the sink. “Or for the rest of the break, for that matter?”

Jeongyeon and Nayeon exchanged looks. “Can’t they play by themselves?” she suggested. “They’re probably going to want to catch up on life.”

“I’m sure they have their own ideas about passing time.” Jeongyeon moved towards the door, peeking out into the living room where Hyunjin and Seungmin were on the floor, battling against each other in some absurd game; Yeji was curled up on the sofa with a book and the little girls were gone. “Yeji? Have you seen the girls?” In response, she got a finger pointing next door.

Once Nayeon had finished her food, she excused herself, leaving Jinyoung and Jeongyeon to sit at the table with some coffee and gossip. 

“I swear, I miss the simplicity of celebrations,” he lamented. “When you have little kids, it’s just _how can you make each year better than the last?_ It’s—” he broke off, peering around her to the kids out front, “—fucking exhausting.” 

“I hear you.” she sighed. “I’m researching ways to beat that out of her already.” They shared a laugh of mutual understanding. “At least your kids are old enough to chill. Aren’t they turning eighteen in the summer?” She marvelled privately at how fast time passed. It must have been even faster for Jinyoung—he and Jaebeom had been married before she even met Nayeon. _Damn._

Jinyoung visibly winced. “Please don’t remind me of that,” he said, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t even _think_ about them going to college.”

Jeongyeon was grateful that she had at least ten more years to think about that. Yuna, a teenager? Yuna, going to _college_?

“Wow,” she breathed, stunned at the picture it posed. “Time flies, doesn’t it?”

A rather loud set of footsteps were heard outside the front door and within the minute, Youngjae and his flatmates entered. Still in the shock of nostalgia, she recalled the first time she met Nayeon’s cousins—Youngjae was only eleven years old then. _Sweet baby Jesus._ How does that little chubby child become this man, in the blink of an eye? 

“Hey, noona.” He waved. The three of them didn’t come any further. “Hyung, can we borrow your car?” 

“Excuse me?” Jinyoung immediately looked offended. “Don’t you have a car next door?”

“Wonpil hyung went to pick Chan up.” 

“Okay, and? Wait for him to come back, then.” He sipped his coffee. “Isn’t it better for Chan to come home? Then you four can have fun. With Wonpil’s car.”

Youngjae rolled his eyes. “We wanted to get some stuff so we could surprise him when he _does_ get back.” Jinyoung shrugged, not looking up from his mug, no fucks given at all. Youngjae made a high whining noise. “Noona, tell him, please—” 

“Take—take ours,” Jeongyeon said, cringing inside at her near mistake. She’d been about to say, _take Nayeon’s van_ instead. She found the keys on the table by the drawer and tossed it to him. “If you do anything to it, I can make sure your career gets nowhere. Remember where I work.” The pure horror on his face satisfied her. He would never hurt the car now. Speechless, he exited the way he came, dragging his friends along.

“You’re evil!” Jinyoung hissed, but face full of glee. 

“Look who’s talking.”

As Jeongyeon passed the living room on her way to the stairs, Yeji called from the sofa, “Wait, who are those guys with Youngjae?”

Something irked her about that question, although she didn’t quite know what. “His flatmates. They didn’t have any place to go for Christmas. You didn’t see them yesterday?” Yeji shook her head and, suddenly conscious, went back to her reading. 

-

Jeongyeon found Nayeon on the little balcony attached to the bedroom, talking to someone. Curious, she peeked around the open glass door and the curtains. Nayeon was on the phone. Of course she was. When was she not?

“They changed the dates?” she was asking. “Before New Years’? Seriously? They shifted them _up_?”

Dates? 

Ah. Must be the _tour_ dates. Of course. Jeongyeon turned away before Nayeon could catch sight of her, heart sinking a little. She’d nearly forgotten about that. What had she expected? That Nayeon would suddenly change over this winter break? That she would keep spending time with them even after the threat of her father’s health was no longer hanging over her?

No, she would leave for Japan or wherever she was going. The dates were moved up to _before_ New Years’? So how long would she even be here?

Jeongyeon shook her head in disappointment. Why was she bothered? The papers were signed, weren’t they?

-

The car came back before the three of the boys did. Since Seungmin had been called back home for lunch (and Yeji couldn’t care less), Jeongyeon was stuck patiently listening to Hyunjin rant about the chameleon his high school class was raising (“do you think anyone took it home? what if it _starves_?”) when she heard the familiar rumble of the van. Nayeon, before she went over next door to finally see Jihyo and Wonpil, had noticed the absence of her car. 

“Where’s my car? Who the hell—?” she’d shot Jeongyeon a questioning look and, resigned, she admitted that she let Youngjae borrow it. The look on Nayeon’s face would have made her laugh if things were better between them, but to save face in front of the curious eyes of the twins, Nayeon didn’t say anything. 

The front door opened and all Jeongyeon could see was a flash on Youngjae’s head. With the quickest “ _thanks!_ ” she’d ever heard, he tossed the keys inside and closed the door again. The voices outside faded away—she guessed that they were headed over to Chan’s place. 

Yuna would probably be here any minute to ask if she could see Felix. Jeongyeon slumped against the cushions, exhausted at the prospect of catching up with all these people. She still hadn’t gone to see Jihyo or Wonpil yet. _Relax,_ she told herself. _You just got here yesterday evening. You’re gonna be here all break. You have time._

“You’re not listening,” Hyunjin complained. She forced herself to look at him and smile. 

“I am listening; your chameleon is going to be fine.” Yeji scoffed from her seat. “I’m sure someone’s taken him home.”

“His class is so _weird_.” Yeji turned a page. “Did you know they had a _spitting_ competition in front of the whole school? Gross.”

“Yeji!” he hissed, but it was too late—Jinyoung had walked in already. Yeji’s eyes widened comically and she clamped her lips together, staring intently at her book. Their father stopped in his tracks.

“They had a what, now?” Hyunjin buried his face in his arms. “Is my son going around school spitting everywhere?” The scandalised look on his face set Jeongyeon into laughter. He turned upon her in dismay. “Is that why those PTA moms were staring at me like I was crap at that meeting? _Hyunjin_ —”

“Appa, I wasn’t even part of it!” he whined, clambering over to grab Jinyoung’s knees as he sat. “I just… _watched_.” Shaking his head, Jinyoung pried his hands off and turned to Jeongyeon. 

She was suddenly struck by the wrinkles around his eyes—sure, she had seen them so many times, literally, how much of her life did she spend in this house? and yes, he was getting older, but those weren’t because of age. Those came out when he was _happy_. 

Jinyoung was happy, wasn’t he? He and Jaebeom had to have been married for at least twenty years; god knows how long they were in love before walking down the aisle; and they raised two seventeen-year-olds together, and raised them _well_. He married into this chaotic family and fell in with these neighbours, just like she did, and _still_ he was okay? He was happy? 

_How does he do it?_

And just like that, this stocky middle-aged man who cries watching movies and has petty cold wars with his own children, this man sitting here in the dumbest reindeer sweater seemed to her the wisest man she’d ever met. There was always something about him that made her want to talk to him, to find out the secrets of life. 

It hadn’t occurred to her until that moment that the special something might simply have been how content he was with what he made of himself and his family. How did he manage to stay so happy with Jaebeom? They’ve had their fights, certainly, but they didn’t let it rip them apart. _What are they doing right that I haven’t figured out yet?_

“Earth to Jeongyeon.” She blinked at the fingers snapping in her face. Jinyoung waved. “Hey. Where did you go?” It took her another few seconds to process the question. 

She swallowed, emotional for no reason at all. “Nowhere. Sorry, what were you saying?”

He gestured around the room. “I was thinking about starting decorations with this place soon. You guys want to help? I don’t trust the other kids with anything. And to be frank,” his voice dropped meaningfully, “the two siblings of this house lack _taste_.”

“Hey,” Yeji protested. “I have plenty of taste, even if this idiot doesn’t.”

Jinyoung let out a long-suffering sigh. “I didn’t mean you two.” 

Hyunjin made a questioning noise. “Then who…? _Oh._ I’m telling Dad you said that.”

“You think he doesn’t already know?” 

The four of them spent most of the afternoon discussing themes that they might want to try—it was a pretty recent initiative on Jinyoung’s part, to follow a theme, but it seemed like fun. It pretty much boiled down to a snowscape theme with whites and blues, or a Santa theme with reds, greens and browns. Needless to say, the Santa theme won out. 

“It already feels too cold to live,” Hyunjin said in his short monologue in favour of it, “I don’t need a reminder every time I come down here.” 

(“ _Seconded,_ ” added his sister.)

“ _Besides_ ,” he continued, “we would have to wrap presents in like, blue and white and we only have red and green paper left. We’d have to use newspapers or something.”

Jinyoung was a little miffed that his winter theme suggestion was overruled using, surprisingly, _logic_ , but he grudgingly agreed. Jeongyeon wondered why he was surprised that his children grew up to use his same tactics. He’s the one who taught them.

“Oh shit,” she said suddenly, sitting up straight. “Gifts. We have to go shopping; I don’t have anything for the kids.” She smacked her forehead with her hand. This whole trip had been unexpected, obviously she didn’t have anything in hand. The puzzle set she bought Yuna a week ago was in her apartment, at the bottom of her wardrobe. She’d totally forgotten about it. 

“You have time, don’t worry,” Jinyoung reassured her. 

“Yeah, plenty of time,” Yeji echoed, wiggling closer to her. “You know, I heard the new iPhone is awesome.” 

“She’s not getting you an iPhone.”

“Yeah, Yeji, that’s so unrealistic.” Hyunjin reached out to pinch her, but his sister, used to him, slapped his hand away. “Say something like, ‘the new PlayStation is really great’.”

“You’re _not_ getting a PlayStation, Hyunjin.”

“Appa, why? Do you not want us to be happy?” 

“So what about the decorations, Jeongyeon? We have some stuff up in the attic, we should check it out sometime, I might need a second opinion on what fits the Santa theme…”

-

Jinyoung left for the hospital about an hour or so later, to exchange his place with Jaebeom as his father-in-law’s companion for the night—Jeongyeon felt guilty again, for both the lie she was hiding, and for not going to see him that day; they _did_ come there because he was ill, after all. She should visit him tomorrow. 

Jeongyeon was contemplating what to do, alone except for the twins, one on his phone and one buried in that book ( _Sapiens,_ Jeongyeon noticed, impressed), when Yeji spoke up. 

“I was meaning to ask, you said Youngjae brought his flatmates, right?” she asked casually, not looking up from the page she was reading. “What do they do?” 

Caught off guard by the question, Jeongyeon struggled to remember what she’d been told. Wasn’t it just yesterday she met them? Did she already forget what they did? _Jesus, I’m getting old._ When she refocused, both the twins were expectant. “Um, I think that skinny one—Bambam? He’s in fashion design. Or learning, anyway. And the other one is a…” she snapped her fingers, searching for the words. “A choreographer.”

“No way!” Hyunjin yelped, an awed grin spreading across his face. “That’s so cool!” Belatedly, she remembered that he was a dancer himself. “Damn, I want to meet them, they sound awesome!” Then, as if catching himself, he shrunk. “You think they’ll let me hang out with them?”

“You won’t know unless you ask. They’re busy today, I think.” She was distracted by her cell phone ringing. _Jihyo?_ She closed her eyes, groaning internally. “Hello?”

“ _Jeongyeon-ah! Where are you? Come over!_ ” She winced at the enthusiasm from the other side. “ _You didn’t come see us yet? Why are you hiding away in that boring house?_ ”

“I—yeah, okay, I’m coming over, just—” she rolled her eyes for the benefit of the twins. “—just had some work to do. Be right there.” She hung up, sighing and addressed the kids. “You two will okay alone, right?” They replied affirmative.

“Dad will probably be home soon, anyway.” 

Jeongyeon pulled on her shoes and her jacket, stepping out into the cold air. Her nose immediately stung and she rubbed at it. The porch was free of snow, but she had to crunch her way to the house hardly fifteen feet away. She blew on her palms as she waited for them to open the door. 

With a cry of “Jeongyeon!” she was pulled into a hug. 

“Jihyo,” she returned with significantly less energy. “Good to see you again.” Jihyo pulled away, a stern look on her face, poking her in the abdomen. 

“Where have _you_ been all day, missy?” Jeongyeon dodged her finger again by tugging her coat off. “You don’t want to see us anymore?”

Jeongyeon shook her head, chuckling. “I’m sorry, I just had some work to wrap up.” 

“You look at bit peaky, you okay?” and Jihyo had gone into her concerned parent role, just like that. “You work too hard. It’s break, and they have you working?” 

“Come here and talk!” came a shout from the living room. Jihyo took her hand and pulled her along. Wonpil and Nayeon and the kids, theirs and her own, were gathered around, on the sofa and the floor. Jeongyeon took a seat on the armchair beside Nayeon’s, just next to where Yuna was plopped on the carpet. Her daughter immediately scooted back against her legs, eager for the warmth and proximity. Jeongyeon glanced at what the three of them were doing—a deck of UNO cards face down in the middle and several cards in each of their hands. Yuna had some yellow ones and a wild card. Not that she was about to tell the others. 

_Why hasn’t World War Three broken out yet, then? They’re playing freaking UNO._ Jeongyeon knew better than most how explosive that game could become, what with its fluctuating (practically non-existent) rules and players prone to betrayal. 

“Hey, Jeong, how’s life?” was obviously the first question out of Wonpil’s mouth—it always was. 

“Hey, Pil.” She rubbed some sudden prickle of sleep out of her eyes. “Things aren’t bad right now.” _The farthest from the truth._ She was literally sitting next to the woman she would call her ex-wife next month, once she got the papers to the lawyers. But Wonpil wasn’t to know that. At least, not yet. “Ah,” she turned to Nayeon, remembering something. “We need to go shopping for gifts. We didn’t get the kids anything yet.” It made her slightly bitter to be speaking so casually, but at the same time, it felt normal—this was something she was used to doing, no matter how bad their relations might be.

Nayeon smacked a palm to her forehead. “That’s what I was forgetting.” 

“You can’t do that!” Yuna burst out angrily. Apparently, Seungmin had placed a +4 card over a +2 card. 

“Why not? You put a +2 over a +2!”

“Yeah, they’re the same kind of card! A +4 is a wildcard!”

“So that means I can—”

“Kids,” Jihyo said firmly. “Play nice.” Jeongyeon petted Yuna’s head to calm her competitive streak. The girl was the type to determinedly declare rematches if she lost in anything, _even if_ she kept losing. “It’s just a game.”

The adults were quiet a moment, watching the round proceed—Yuna still grumbling about Seungmin cheating, with six new cards in hand. It was in this momentarily lapse of noise that they heard the doorbell ring. Jihyo glanced at her as she got up. “Who—is it Jinyoung?”

Jeongyeon shrugged, just as clueless as she was. It was growing darker and darker outside. 

“Oh, Felix!” 

The three kids froze, looking at each other and mouthing _Felix?_ , like rabbits who sensed danger. They jumped up, rushing out to the front door.

“Felix!”

“Hi!”

“You’re back!”

It was amusing, the chaos that broke out. Anyone would think they hadn’t seen each other in years, when in fact, summer vacation was only just a few months ago. The three of them came back inside, dragging Felix along. Much to Jeongyeon’s confusion, he carried an overnight bag. Dropped it beside the sofa and let Nayeon pull him into her lap. He wasn’t getting away with a brief small talk session first. Jeongyeon caught a glimpse of Yuna’s heart eyes and snorted. 

“Hey, Felix, how’s it going?” Wonpil asked him. “How was the flight?”

“It was good,” he said, oozing with cuteness despite being older than Seungmin. “Boring, though.”

“You must be tired,” Nayeon said, ruffling his hair. “Why did you come all the way here so late? It’s already dark.”

The boy’s bottom lip jutted out. “Channie hyung told me to leave. I went there first—” he pointed next door, “—but Jinnie hyung said everyone was over here. I thought I could sleepover.” 

“Chan kicked you out?” Jihyo sounded horrified. “What on earth for?”

Felix pressed his lips together, stifling a giggle. Unwilling to say it out loud, he cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered it into Nayeon’s ear. Her jaw dropped. 

“They’re _drinking_?” she repeated. “Chan kicked you out so they could drink?” She shot Jihyo a look—Youngjae was her brother, after all, and it was because he brought his friends over that the four of them were partying at Chan’s place now. Nayeon and Jihyo had long since accepted that Youngjae wasn’t a child anymore, though reluctantly; he’d been a legal adult for over six years now—it probably wasn’t the drinking part that irked them, how could he kick out his own brother for some alcohol? 

_Chan knows we’re home and just down the block,_ her mind supplied. _He trusts us, but still? Kind of a shitty move._

Jihyo shook her head despairingly. “I need to have a talk with him. Those four are going to cause trouble this Christmas, I can feel it.” She pursed her lips. “Maybe I can get Jaebeom oppa to talk to them.”

“Oh, right, where are they, by the way?” Nayeon turned to Jeongyeon, letting Felix slide away and join his friends in a new game of UNO. “Jaebeom and Jinyoung?”

“Hospital,” she replied, feeling Yuna tug at her phone to make her release it. She obliged. “Jinyoung’s staying the night, remember? Jaebeom should be home soon.”

Nayeon winced, fingers rapidly tapping on the arm of the chair. Jeongyeon could tell that she was feeling the same guilt about not visiting her father. “I called in the morning and Appa said not to come so soon, but I shouldn’t stay away like that. I have to go tomorrow.”

Jeongyeon nodded, speaking absently. “Yeah, we can go tomorrow.”

Nayeon stilled, her tapping ceased, very much aware of the word _we_. She didn’t want to know what Nayeon was thinking. It wasn’t anything else, not out of sympathy. She had guilt lingering in her, too. She’d known the man for years—it wasn’t fair that she turned her back on him because of her relationship crumbling. And wasn’t he bound to ask where she was anyway, when Nayeon went to see him? Wasn’t that the whole point in her coming along? To keep the old man happy?

She sat there, letting the noise of conversation and the kids arguing wash over them, their eyes still locked. There was melancholy there, a begrudging agreement, silent understanding that this was for the best, this was only for the rest of this month. 

“Yeah,” Nayeon breathed, giving her the slightest nod. “Okay.”


End file.
